


Belonging

by alrightginger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Misunderstandings, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27967121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alrightginger/pseuds/alrightginger
Summary: James is thirteen when he first notices the writing on his left hand. It starts off as scribbles at first. Swirls that loop into more swirls until eventually a flower is blossoming in the place where the base of his thumb arches into his wrist. A lily, he realizes.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 117





	Belonging

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt : please don't go

James is thirteen when he first notices the writing on his left hand. 

It starts off as scribbles at first. Swirls that loop into more swirls until eventually a flower is blossoming in the place where the base of his thumb arches into his wrist. 

A lily, he realizes. 

He thrills at the sight, knowing that yes,  _ yes,  _ he does have a soulmate out there after all. After years of wondering and waiting, this little bit of contact is enough to know that he isn’t meant to be alone in the world. He's got someone out there made to go through life with him. 

He’s heard talk of soulmates all his life. 

It’s been the subject of many dinner conversations between his parents, in which they would recall the first moment they could ever remember the other one reaching out to them. He has seen his classmates playing games of tic-tac-toe instead of actually paying attention in class with whoever is on the other end of their bond. 

Sirius has already gotten his first contact with his soulmate a year ago, kindly asking him to stop drawing profane things on his knuckles. 

He had responded to that with drawing hearts on them instead. 

James doesn’t pick up his own quill just yet, knowing that their bond is now present and whatever he writes on his skin now will be the first thing his soulmate knows of him. 

It will be the first impression they have of him.

He is thirteen and doesn’t know how to go about impressing a soulmate who draws pretty flowers on his hand. 

He waits. 

\--

He’s fifteen when he realizes that his soulmate hates him. 

He isn’t even entirely sure what he could have possibly done to warrant the word  _ toerag  _ scrawled across his forehead in blocky letters. He just knows she’s furious with him, the way it’s written out sloppily. Much different than her normal curly scrawl. He gets reassurance in the fact that she —whoever  _ she _ actually is — must look just as ridiculous, for whatever she does to him, she has to do to herself first. 

He growls, wetting a rag underneath the warm water that’s running in his bathroom sink. He scrubs at the words until his forehead burns and splotches red. Until the rag cools underneath his hands and he realizes that they’re not coming off. She’s written them in permanent marker, she’s that frustrated with him. 

He blinks, impressed with the levels in which she’s willing to take their petty argument. They’re eveningly matched, it seems. 

He can’t even remember how it started, these ill feelings for the other person that they’re currently harboring. 

All he knows is that they’ve been arguing back and forth for a week now, and not even properly. They’re limited to whatever they can scrawl on the other person’s skin. Though his soulmate seems to have a wider variety of insulting names at her disposal than he does. Which is fine. He can deal with whatever creative insults she comes up with for him. James had just thought that their fighting would remain on their arms and hands, where it could stay out of sight from everyone else by their clothing. 

But he realizes now that he’s made her angry enough with him that she wants the whole world to know that he’s a toerag. 

He snorts. 

Fine. 

If she wants to be that childish, he can as well. 

He bounds down the stairs, ignoring his mother’s shouts that she hasn’t raised him in a barn, and digs in the junk drawer until he finds a permanent marker. 

He wields it like a sword. Two can play at this game.

He goes to the hallway mirror, uncapping the marker. He barely registers that he’s about to make himself look all the more ridiculous, just to spite his soulmate, before he pens the word  _ stupid  _ down his right cheek. 

  
  
  


\--

He’s sixteen when he realizes that nearly six months have gone by without any contact from the person on the other end of his bond. 

He wonders if he’s possibly driven her away with his immaturity. If she would rather go the whole of her life not knowing who’s attached to her than to deal with his bickering. 

He wouldn’t blame her at this point. 

He spends most of his lessons in school now with a quill hovering over his skin, trying to find the courage to initiate contact and apologize. He doesn’t know what to say, however. He doesn’t even remember why they were fighting in the first place or what even started it. 

He just knows that they’ve been at odds for nearly as long as they’ve been soulmates, and he doesn’t want to be that way with her. 

The tip of his quill touches his skin before he can register what he’s doing. 

_ Please don’t go,  _ he writes out. It’s all he can think to say. He hopes that it’s enough, this ineloquence. 

\--

He’s eighteen when he finally finds his soulmate.

He’s wandering around Muggle London when he spots a girl with dark red hair and the greenest eyes he's ever seen with her nose in a book outside of a Muggle bookshop. She doesn’t like what she’s reading, apparently, for her nose scrunches up and she snorts before placing it back down on the half off shelf. 

Her hand lingers on another book when he notices that the game of hangman that he’s had going on since earlier today is also scribbled out against this girl's left hand. His heart stops. Surely it cannot be this easy. Surely he cannot just find her off of the street after years of wondering who she could possibly be. After years of having no leads.

Taking a chance, he busies himself behind another bookshelf, writing out the letter  _ c  _ underneath the slew of letters she’s already crossed out. He’s always been rubbish at this game. Today serves no better. He hears a laugh on the other side of the self the next second, and watches through the books as this girl shakes her head, pulling a pen from behind her ear. She places the pen to her hand and James watches as the skin on his own hand gets another dash through his letter choice. 

“Nice try,” she mutters to herself, grinning smugly. 

And,  _ oh.  _

She is  _ his.  _

And not his in the sense that he owns her, for he knows that people cannot be owned. But she is his in the sense that he belongs to her. Belongs with her. In the sense that she is the other person at the end of the bond that they possess together. 

His soulmate is a  _ Muggle.  _ Which would explain why his search for her has turned up empty for years now. Because she exists in a totally different world from him. 

He watches her for another second, watching as she looks at her hand closely, and he can see it in her eyes. That same look he wears whenever he’s waiting for a response. Whenever he’s hoping that she’ll contact him next. 

The same look of disappointment that he also wears flashes across her eyes when a minute passes and she still hasn’t gotten a response. 

She  _ wants  _ him to keep reaching out to her. She wants to hear from him.

His pride swells. 

He tosses the book he’s holding on the ground, watching as it lands by her feet. 

“Sorry,” he hears himself say. They both bend down for the book at the same time, and James is careful to keep his left hand covered by the sleeve of his jacket. He’s not ready to give up his secret just yet. “Dropped my book.”

“That’s okay,” she says, handing it to him. Their eyes meet and they share a smile. He knows it’s going to be the first of many. “Looks like a pretty interesting read.”

“I hope so,” James says. They stay there for a moment, crouching down on the street, smiling at each other. “My name’s James, by the way.”

“Lily.” Lily. Hissoulmate’s name is  _ Lily.  _ He thinks back to the flower she drew on him when he was just a boy. “Lily Evans.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave a comment!


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